Einstein's Dreams
by By Victoria
Summary: A collection of Royai vignettes based on their impossible love and possibilities in Alan Lightman's Einstein's Dreams. I own nothing.
1. 14 April 1905

_Suppose time is a circle, bending back on itself. The world repeats itself, precisely, endlessly. _

They had grown used to each other over the years. To the casual observer, he never appreciated her…and she never saw her own worth.

But they didn't care. They were quite content taking each other for granted. They were quite content knowing it would be routine…that they would see each other every day like this. He was content in knowing she will remain at his side with the muted affection that filled his empty heart. She was content in knowing her life was not wasted and that the country could become a better place.

He would sit in his chair and lazily scratch a signature and she would file it in the appropriate place. The window would be open, permitting a soft breeze to caress their backs every so often as the hours idly ticked by.

Roy would wonder vaguely how it ever became like this. How nothing ever seems to change…how they seem to neither age nor change. They remain constant…never ending…in a circle…never able to move forward.

Riza would berate harshly when she notices him falling into another one of his musings again. They have a life to live; they must never look back…for time will certainly not do so. She calls him useless for spending too much time pondering.

They will complete the cycle and begin it once more.

They will meet at her father's house and fall in love again. They will frolic among the green grass on lazy afternoons again and she will fall in his arms underneath the oak tree…both with impossible dreams behind sleepy eyes. They will kill in the Ishval Extermination War and be stripped of their innocence and spirit again. He will see the scar and cement their relationship…he will burn the scar and forever sever anything else they may ever have had.

They cannot ignore it. For how can they? If they have repeated these happenings millions of times before, they will continue to do so…until the end of time.

_This is really my way of understanding Alan Lightman's Einstein's Dreams and catch things I might have missed just by reading it through. And besides, it was in the same place and time. I couldn't help myself. xD I can only hope I can do enough justice to one of the most profound relationships I have ever known. Reviews would be lovely. =]_


	2. 16 April 1905

**_When a traveler from the future must talk, he does not talk but whimpers. He whispers tortured sounds. He is agonized. For if he makes the slightest alteration in anything, he may destroy the future. At the same time, he is forced to witness events without being part of them. He envies the people who live in their own time, who can act at will, oblivious of the future, ignorant of the effects of their actions. But he cannot act. He is an inert gas, a ghost, a sheet without soul. He has lost his personhood. He is an exile of time. _**

They had looked so blindly into the future. They ran madly into the battlefield like the young, reckless fools they were. For honor…glory…love…happiness…

They watched innocent blood spilled; heard screams of children; smelled death in every step they marched. They followed orders.

They would never forget. It would be a sin they would pay for the rest of this life and beyond it. This is their future. They have seen it. They cannot stray from the path.

And so they would not be fooled by what they told them. They told them that their lives would be redeemed. That in rebuilding Ishval, they were redeeming their souls with each new house they built.

Roy had opened his eyes to applause. He was lucky…so lucky. The past was finally behind them, they rejoiced. They no longer had to punish themselves for what they had done. _Naïve fools._

When they faced each other once more they remained silent. What could they say? What would they tell each other? _Let's change our future. Let's be happy. Let's believe we deserve it. _

After countless minutes, he stood at the foot of her bed and wished her a full recovery in a stoic voice. There was more to say. There was _always_ more to say. But his lips kept sealed and his tongue was made of stone.

Riza saved him then. She always saved him. In a quiet, resigned voice, she spoke, "Let's not tempt fate, colonel." He watched her head fall back onto the pillows and her eyes gaze blankly at the ceiling, ready to close. She needed sleep. She had lost so much blood…

He nodded quickly and turned away. Turned away so she would not see the pain in his eyes…turned away so he would not see the pain in _her_ eyes. His fists clenched at his side so tightly they shook.

Roy always envied Maes for his strength...for the life he was able to have. A husband…a father… Unable to bear it, he turned back and gazed upon the sleeping body of his beautiful lieutenant.

All he had to do was reach out. Reach out and he would have this woman to hold for the rest of his life. They would always be happy. They would kiss each other good morning and good night as all couples do. They would have silly quarrels about mundane things. They would have a warm fire and bed to share while the winter storms raged outside. She would lean against his shoulder and he would rest his chin on top of her head in the summer afternoon. They would have children…children born at sunrise as the sun set on this bloody chapter of their lives.

But his arms stayed cold and empty. This would not be their fate. He was imagining things again. After all they've done, they did not deserve happiness. He could never make her happy.

Thanks for reading! =]


	3. 19 April 1905

_For in this world, time has three dimensions, like space. Just as an object may move in three perpendicular directions, corresponding to horizontal, vertical, and longitudinal, so an object may participate in three perpendicular futures. Each future moves in a different direction of time. Each future is real. _

_Some make light of decisions, arguing that all possible decisions will occur._

_Others hold that each decision must be considered and committed to, that without commitment there is chaos. Such people are content to live in contradictory worlds, so long as they know the reason for each. _

The ever faithful Riza Hawkeye stood behind her superior with utmost diligence. He is brooding again. She suppressed a sigh. The dreamy artists liked to label this the "magical" moment. That time of day when the sun had not yet completely set and when celebrations have just ended. But sunsets held a different connotation for soldiers like her. Death smelled the worst at the end of the battle day.

She patiently waited for the Fuhrer as he continued to lean out the balcony with strong gloved hands gripping the banister in all his regal glory. Only minutes ago, the court yard had been deafening with festivity and joy as the country dared to hope.

Before the light completely faded, he turned to her. There was gentleness in his eyes…warmth directed towards her that she was not used to. He smiled softly and approached her, closing the gap between them that they had grown so used to. He cradles her face with tender reverence and kisses her.

* * *

Riza wills her trained body to react against nature and turns cold in his arms. She gazes unflinchingly into his heartbroken eyes. He mumbles an apology, clears his throat, and remembers his place.

She was ready. She had prepared for this moment for as long as she could remember.

It is too dangerous. What she had almost done in the tunnels haunts her. What she almost _couldn't_ do. She had to close the door before it's too late. Before the day comes when she could no longer see anything beyond a burning passion to sustain… to hold… to justify.

It will remain a fantasy; an unfulfilled dream. The dull ache in her heart, like a drum, began to intensify rhythmically until she could barely keep from screaming. Riza Hawkeye was dying.

But she never cried. She never cried as she walked away and the sky darkened above them. She never cried as he chose his First Lady and lifted the white veil that rested above her dark hair. Or when he danced with her at the infinite celebratory balls… holding her against his chest… murmuring sweet things in her ear for her to giggle at.

And she never hated her. That woman who would be known to Amestris as the Fuhrer's right-hand and most trusted confidant. The woman the Fuhrer loved to bask in unprecedented affection. Even when she bore his beautiful children and basked publicly and excessively in that joy as if to spite her, she never hated her.

She lived many more years before her venomous heart eventually wore her out. She died in her sleep, written off as death by natural causes.

But she had kept her promise. Never once did she stray from the path she had chosen.

* * *

In another world, Riza surrenders to the man she loves. Suppressed passion flares to life as she immerses herself in the kiss. He becomes bolder and runs a hand through his hair. They share a moment more intimate and beautiful than making love.

She becomes First Lady. The same hope that had swept the nation transforms into cold dread. The power their union seeps makes them nervous. They call conspiracy. That she won her place through questionable means. They do not trust her. There is too much history. She was a killer – a feature most unheard of for a woman of propriety. She is not the pure and pristine queen they had hoped for.

The Ishvalans had forgiven the Fuhrer for being a hero and their well of goodwill had run as dry as their country. Where is the accountability?

He would not hear of it. She reminds him that he is a ruler before he is a husband. It begins to rain.

Those who were near her on her final hour would say that she was in hysterics. As she lost minutes, she began to talk more… laugh harder… until both her hands were shoved against her mouth as tears poured from her eyes. She said it's a good thing that she had opted not to wear any make-up, or it'd all be ruined by now. She gave the red-eyed and pale knight who would carry out the execution a warm smile and gestured to the exact spot where the bullet should enter to ease her suffering.

The knight's cigarette snapped between his teeth as the hands that held the rifle shook violently.

She enters the battleground that had made many alchemists before and had been used for even more petty matches of worth. If they wanted a grand gesture, he damn well will give them one. This death will not be a waste. Her own calm and composure astounds her.

She stands before the vindictive people of Ishval and the scornful people of Amestris and addresses all the sins that she had committed and could have committed in the future.

She salutes him. The young queen falls to her knees before the king. Only one shot needed to be made. Jean Havoc made sure of it.

At that moment, the Fuhrer abandoned all stature and bearing as he charges toward her. He cradles his love against his chest and lets himself be drenched with her blood. Lust's sultry voice filled his world, _I love how cold and focused your eyes are. I look forward to the day when those eyes will be wide with agony. It's coming…_

Before more blood could be shed, a silent, merciful cry of _enough_ was made.

They had their proof. He was truly a ruler for the people. Even those he loved are not above the law.

* * *

In the last world, the kiss the shared is frustratingly anticlimactic. It has been something they both desired for so long that the event itself had been romanticized in both their minds to epic proportions. Reality could no longer deliver those expectations.

He clears his throat and she glances to the side. But the attraction brought about by their fantasies remains.

They marry with the current Fuhrer's blessing… something they would never have dared to hope for in the years past. The disinterest was something they blamed on exhaustion – nothing that private vacations and ignited passion couldn't cure. He never becomes Fuhrer as a family has taken a new priority in his life.

But old habits of survival have long since built cement walls between them which will never be broken down. The smiles they give to each other in the mornings and nights become empty. Complements and kind words begin to sound artificial. They insult each other with the pain and burdens they would not share with one another. Loneliness that can only be brought about by lack of intimacy creeps in.

She suspects him of infidelity when he spends unnatural amounts of hours at his aunt's hostess brothel drinking and longing for the woman he married. They fall out of love.

When they retire, they mutually agree to separate. They board trains going opposite directions and spend the trip contemplating over the reasons for their discontent…knowing that somehow, someway, their lives were meant to be more meaningful. Both wondered as the dull aches began to drum in their hearts… just why couldn't they be happy?

Review please! :D


	4. 24 April 1905

_In this world, there are two times. There is mechanical time and there is body time. The first is rigid and metallic as a massive pendulum of iron that swings back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The second squirms and wiggles like a bluefish in a bay. The first is unyielding, predetermined. The second makes up its mind as it goes along…_

…_Where the two times meet, desperation. Where the two times go their separate ways, contentment. _

* * *

It was no secret that the Colonel never liked getting anything done. The reputation of being a procrastinating commanding officer carried so much truth simply because it was true. Somehow, Colonel sat at his desk each morning seemingly convinced that the sun will not set until his work was complete.

The Lieutenant would sigh once more as she watched her commanding officer become enthralled with the mechanics of the clicker on his pen.

He finishes at last. The Colonel sighs in relief at the same time each day – ten minutes before the absolute deadline. The Lieutenant swiftly organizes and posts the papers to their respective destinations. They salute each other gravely as they do at the end of each workday to signal a temporary end to the battle they must fight each day.

But tonight there is overtime.

It was a tactical decision… a strategy to be a decadent womanizer in his spare time. The Colonel opened his polished silver pocket watch and smirked at the precise moment when an envious rival crossed his path.

He enters the infamous bar and brothel owned by Madame Christmas. The bell does not startle her. She has expected him at this precise moment on this precise day. What seems spontaneous and bodily is in fact ordered and mechanical. The Colonel comes to waste perfectly planned time.

The Madame offers him a drink to which he accepts with the blithest shrug of his shoulders. She idly puffs her cigarette as her son compliments the atmosphere with his graceful swig.

Exactly twenty five seconds later, the Colonel's favorite sister Vanessa ambushes him from behind in an affectionate embrace. She giggles as she tells him how it's been so long since they've seen him… how thoughtless he always is to come when they're at their worst; when business is slow and the place is nowhere nearly as exciting as it should be.

The Colonel smirks as he gives a witty retort and they continue their banter for three and a half more minutes.

At that moment, Vanessa casually lets it slip that Elizabeth is home and unoccupied for the night. A lewd smile on the Colonel's face accents the dim lighting of the bar. He finishes his ginger ale and pays for a comfortable room to sleep off the intoxication. The Madame pockets the money and passes an ornate key – one reserved for the preferred customers - to him. She casually asks if he would like any company tonight. The Colonel ponders for three seconds and asks for Elizabeth, his established favorite. Vanessa pouts at being passed over while the Madame makes a mark in her dossier and rings a hidden bell.

The Colonel nods his appreciation as he walks unsteadily towards the stairs.

* * *

Outside, in the freezing cold, the investigator glances at his worn pocket watch and huffs his annoyance to the wind. He tugs the coat tighter as he closes his notepad that he has been recording in since the beginning of the day. "I must be snooping for a goddamn gossip magazine! Here, let me tell you about Colonel Mustang's brilliant pick up line involving a chair and a fucking ballpoint pen!" He'll be screaming in the privacy of his apartment as soon as he reviews these useless notes of a trivial romantic escapade. Shaking his head, he turns away from yet another fruitless investigation. It was always the same. The Colonel exists to waste everyone's time and give the decorated uniform on his lazy frame a bad name. He took one last look into the window to watch the Colonel stagger towards the stairs to satisfy his lust. Womanizing bastard… the investigator curses as he jams his notepad into the pocket of his beige overcoat and stalked away from the scene in disgust.

* * *

At the top of the stairs, Roy Mustang straightens his posture and combs a hand through his unruly hair in an earnest effort to neaten it. He takes a soft breath as he feels his heart pounding in anticipation. In his hand, he holds the handsome key to the lock.

Across the room and behind the hidden back door outside, Riza Hawkeye inserts her own key removed from a cord around her neck but presses against the wood in a similar pause. She rests her brow against her hand and takes a soft breath as she feels her heart pounding in anticipation.

They seemed to be waiting for the transformation… the melting away and equivalent exchange of mechanical time for the one their bodies preferred. But even as they both opened the door and stepped into the world where their desires can determine their path and future, their hearts manage to synchronize into a single, efficient, _mechanical_ entity.

In this world, their uniforms are effortlessly pushed aside for their bodies to assume control and decide their time. A shiver called for a warm embrace. Pains from old scars called for healing caresses. Aching loneliness from many dark nights alone called for soothing kisses to alert the other of their presence. They murmur soft, sweet coos to each other for their ears that grew tired to hear the endless string of orders and dutiful reporting. And over and over again, they said each other's names to forgo the "sir" and "lieutenant."

It is nothing short of _desperation._ They watch the inevitable sunrise and the intrusion of day.

Mechanically, the lovers pull apart to dress. Without a second glance at the other, they adjust their heavy uniforms. Riza combs and pulls her long hair back into the tight clip. Roy straightens the gold stars of his rank on his broad shoulders. They both exit out of the doors they entered. The locks both click at the same time, shutting away this secret.

They made the mistake of looking back once. The desperation all but consumed them as they stole a kiss and their bodies betrayed them with bitter tears. Their punishment was the constant dread for an entire year that they would never have another night like this. That they would be separated by the powers above them… parted forever before death.

The Madame saved them from this fate with all the necessary bribes and underhanded deals. She removed her cigarette and fixated upon the _children_ with a fearsome glare of warning that they would never forget again. But she looked upon Riza, the woman she already considered her daughter, and gave her the key in the guise of an elegant pendant. It was her beloved son's hand in marriage. And she glanced at Roy, to whom she coached the ways to have a strategy which involved conspicuously having a favorite hostess. He would keep his secret love and pining hidden in plain sight.

The Colonel emerged from the staircase hung over from the previous night of having consumed too much ginger ale to meet his faithful and visibly irritated Lieutenant. She appraised him and offered him a cold salute, after which she reported the Colonel's delay as having put him behind the schedule as dictated by mechanical time.

He shrugged irreverently at the Lieutenant and rudely brushed past her toward the light that announced a new workday. She sighed and followed the Colonel to the office.

* * *

The investigator opened his notepad to record what he had just witnessed and the precise mechanical time it happened. He picked up his already cold coffee and cursed that incompetent Colonel again for making him get up so early to watch his nanny Lieutenant keep him in line. He crumpled the paper cup and shook his head. Vaguely, he wondered what the hell it was she saw in him.

**Well all that flirting with Elizabeth had to go somewhere if he wanted to convince the world. ;] It feels great to be off writer's block at last. I hope this wasn't too shabby. Reviews will be greatly appreciated! **


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